The blessing bowl and the fear XXXII

Door San Daniel gepubliceerd in Verhalen en Poëzie

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"You know," my wife said, "I don't care where the cursed thing came from, I thought it was a nasty bowl, and whether it came from the Middle East or not, I'm glad it is gone from my house." I thought about my guts. The voice from the tap had 'promised' me that they would be pulled out if I didn't get hold of the bowl and I just had the idea that it wasn't an empty threat. Without wanting to do it, I had become pivotal in a demonic game. I had become the owner, together with my wife, of a house that had a cellar that could be called very very different indeed.

"That was just a dream," I told myself. "And you want to believe that," a raw voice sounded between my ears, accompanied by a drum beat. And I knew it didn't make sense to fool myself. The first dream had been one about a plain on which I walked and a cave in the distance and the enormous loneliness I had experienced. After that everything went fast, sounds from the cellar, drumming on bongos, voices that spoke to me from objects. Occasionally my hand was directed against my will and I had emptied my coffee against my will, in fact I had tried to resist, my wrist had simply been turned around.

The story of the deceased previous owners had just been told by my neighbor or he found his end by plunging down a ladder. If that wasn't enough, two Indians who had probably taken the bowl out of my garbage bin had died and the nice owner of the Thrift store, where the bowl had landed, had suffered a stroke. My inner voice changed from time to time or was accompanied by a raw gravel voice and if I didn't know better then as an outsider I would think that I was going crazy.

My 'case' would fill entire symposia of psychiatrists if they only half knew what was happening to me. The rumble had moved with me to my sister's house when I went to drink a cup of tea there and I had called on her not to open the hatch of her cellar because there was something unholy down there lying in wait. It was clear I was the pivot. The bowl had been given to me and I was the co-owner of the house. Everything related to it, followed me and apparently time was running out.

 

 

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The demon in me had told me that he had needed a body and had therefore entered my head. I was also told that there were intersections in time and that the time was ripe because all was ligning up. Poor me, I didn't know what to do or what was expected of me. But I knew with deep conviction that if I did not live up to the expectation of all that persecuted me, I would be the fourth deceased owner of this house.

I wondered if the previous owners had also not met their 'obligations'. Then why did my neighbor die? I just thought he had said too much, he had been the one who told me about the three previous owners and the strange ways in which they had died. How would my guts be torn out? Surely that was not possible. For a moment I became dizzy and I saw myself lying in a flash on a deserted plain, close to a cave opening in a rock wall and I was shocked because there were ravens on me that were feasting on me.

I shook it off and thought of my cellar where the workplace radiated blue light and where the voice of my deceased neighbor had asked me to put the bowl on a 'point of intersection'. I thought he pointed out the place that emitted blinding light.

"You are miles away," my wife said, "you've had that lately," a penny for your thoughts. "Oh well," I said, "I was indeed far away, so much has happened and I thought about the environment here and our house and that I would like to know more about the population, the Indian tribes and such."

"I was thinking," my wife said, "that if you can put the smoker on the concrete platform, I can smoke some spare ribs." That was the last place where I wanted to have my love, that was the place where the shed had been where the second owner died screeching his lungs out while he burnt to death.

 

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"I'll put it by the kitchen door, close to the fire pit," I said, "then we don't have to walk too far and why don't we invite the neighbors, then I'll put some chairs and a table outside and later we can light a fire in the fire pit and enjoy a few drinks and disconnect from all the misery we have experienced in recent times. ' "How nice," my wife said. I'm going to call the neighbor's wife  immediately. "

"That my young friend," the gravel voice sounded in my head, "you did well. "I'm not young," I protested, "and you're not my friend." "Ah," said the gravel voice, "age is just a number, if you are a few thousand years old then you will find everyone young and as far as friendship is concerned, you cannot always pick out your friends and I have chosen you, that makes you one of my circle. "

also read part33

San Daniel 2020

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25/02/2020 19:52

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